


Hallelujah

by SaxuallyActive



Series: Buyout Blues [12]
Category: Hockey RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Other, Post-Olympic Break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-26 13:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3853132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaxuallyActive/pseuds/SaxuallyActive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Olympic Break angst feat. Danny, Gally, and a lonely Claude.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hallelujah

**Author's Note:**

> i was drunk and it didn’t mean a thing  
> stop thinking about  
> the bullets from my mouth  
> i love the things you hate about yourself  
> just finished a daydream  
> who were you trying to be  
> then the time for being sad is over  
> and you miss em like you miss no other  
> and being blue is better than being over it

_February 26 th_

An assist in the third and a hard-fought OT wasn’t enough to top the Red Wings.

I sit down in the locker room and Brian Gionta gently smacks my shins with his stick.

“Thanks for the assist, old man.” He said, smirking slyly at me. He’s only two years younger than me, that’s the joke. Yeah.

Coach debriefs us. We can all breathe again.

I pack up my things, shower, and change. I don’t bother putting my tie back on. But I get back to my bag and I can’t find my damn car keys. Just as I wrap my fingers around them (of course, they were in the _bottom_ of the bag) I hear a voice from behind me…

“Do you want to get something to eat?” Brendan says. I stand up and turn around. He hasn’t put his tie on either.

“Who’s all going?”

“Uh…probably P.K., Alex…Carey said he might show up if he’s feeling up to it.” He says lowly.

I pause for a moment, flipping my keys around in my hand.

“Where?”

“That small bar we usually go to on the other side of town…uh…” He’s searching for the name. “Secret Cellar I think. It’s a cute little place.”

“Sure, can I follow?” I never really go out with anyone, so why not. Even if it is Gally, I can maybe drink some wine and enjoy the presence of my team mates.

“Yeah, yeah.” I follow him out of the locker room and I hear someone shout _“Don’t waste too much time, we have morning skate tomorrow!”_

We head out into the bitter cold, and I get in my car. I watch him get into his and I follow him out onto the street.

After about ten minutes of driving, we end up in a relatively vacant parking lot. The sign for the Secret Cellar is some sort of retro-neon sign that looks like it’s on its last leg. Gally parks and I park beside him.

I get out of my car and he’s waiting there for me. We run inside and out of the cold.

The bar is quaint and smells like old wine and fries. It’s dark and warm, there’s barely anyone in the bar, it seems that everyone’s left for the night. The bartender is cleaning the bar with a rag, and his head lifts slightly when he hears the door closing behind us.

_“Bonjour, que voulez-vous?”_

Gally turns to me and shrugs slightly. _“Du vin?”_

I shrug back. _“Oui.”_

Gally orders us two glasses of wine and a sandwich for us to split, after I insist that I’m really not too hungry. I keep glancing at the door, waiting for others to show up.

“What’s wrong?” Gally asks me as he turns and fidgets on his bar stool.

“Just wondering when everyone else will get here.”

“They probably just went home because we have morning skate tomorrow—“

“Gally, don’t play coy with me,” I say lowly. The bartender places two glasses of red wine before us.

 _“Ah, bien, merci!”_ Gally says cheerfully to the bartender. He delicately brings the glass to his lips and I watch as he sips. He places the glass down and his tongue flicks out to catch a drop that began to roll off his lip. He motions to me to try the wine.

I take a slow sip.

 _“Merlot.”_ I whisper as I place the glass down onto the bar. I try not to let my feelings show. My stomach drops and my heart begins to hurt.

_“Quoi?”_

“Nothing. You chose a good wine.” I fib innocently.

“ _Merci beaucoup, Danny.”_ Gally says as he combs his hair back with his hand.

“Gally,” I begin. I stop and take another sip of wine. “I’m sorry, I had a falling out with Claude over the break—“

“You never answered my text about if you two were dating again—“

“And we are _not—_ “

“Then what _are_ you two?”

Gally’s question stings my chest a little bit. I take a deep breath. The bartender sets our food down before us.

_Enjoy! Merci._

“He’s a _very_ close friend to me, I hold him dear to my heart.” I say quickly once the bartender leaves.

“Then the _‘falling out’_ wasn’t so bad, was it?” Gally smiles and picks up his half of his sandwich.

“What do you mean?” I reply as Gally shoves the sandwich into his mouth.

“If you still hold him close, yeah?” He says with a mouthful of food. “This shit’s good, you should try it.”

“No one else is coming, Gally.”

“Because of the morning skate, probably.” He says and he licks a finger.

I stare at the food. “I bet.”

“I just wanted to be around you.” He says softly.

I look up, and Gally is giving me a warm smile.

“What are you afraid of?” He says under his breath, as though he’s trying to figure me out. He tilts his head to the left a degree and leans forward inquisitively.

“Fucking up.” I say. I bite my lip and exhale. “I’m afraid of fucking up to the point that they could easily find someone better than me.”

“Has he found someone else?”

I shake my head. “But I know that he could, easily. He’s good enough to.”

“But is he good enough for _you?_ ”

But as the words “he is” formed on my tongue, I began doubting my own thoughts. I looked from my hands in my lap up to Gally, his lips slightly parted so he could breathe out.

“This isn’t even about trying to get with you anymore,” He patted my knee gingerly. “this is about making you happy, because you are _incredible_ when you’re happy.”

“He was walking around my house smiling and laughing and not giving a shit about the world and that made me feel so beautiful.” I take a sip of wine.

Gally laughs a little to himself and takes another bite of the sandwich. A piece of lettuce drops into his lap.

“What?” I say as he laughs.

“You’re hilarious.” He replies, picking the lettuce off his pants.

“Why?”

“You’re in love with that piece of shit and you don’t want to show it.” Gally sets the sandwich down and takes a few fries between his fingers and shoves them in his mouth.

“No.” I say. My cheeks go warm. I take a few fries and stuff them in my stupid mouth.

“Why did I fucking order a sandwich and fries with wine?” Gally laughs, a fry hanging out of his mouth. The fry drops into his lap and I can’t help but laugh.

“Learning to eat?”

“ _Toujours, Daniel._ ” Gally grins and takes another bite.

The minutes pass and it’s easily one thirty in the morning now. My buzz has faded and Gally forces me to eat the other half of the sandwich. He never brings up Claude again.

After we finish our food and he pays the bill, he walks me out to my car, the snow falling lightly in the cold night. He turns to me as we stop near my car.

“If you ever need anyone to talk to—“

“Thank you, Gally.” I say before he can begin on a tangent.

He’s looking at me and smiling only a bit as he pulls his hat on. The parking lot is dimly lit with only two street lamps, and the snow is twinkling in the soft light hitting his face.

 _“De rien, Daniel.”_ He begins with a sigh. He steps forward and takes my hands into his. I let him. “Do what _you_ want to do to make _yourself_ happy. If that means calling Claude when you get home then do that. You deserve all the happiness in the world. I’m saying this from any other position other than being your good friend, okay?”

“Okay.”

He pulls me in for a warm hug. I place my cheek against his shoulder and I slowly feel all the knots in my back unwind. He carries my weight.

He lets me go and his hands slide out of my hands.

“I’ll see you at morning skate, Daniel.”

_“Bonne nuit, Gally.”_

_“Merci, merci.”_ He laughs to himself.

I watch him go, the snow falling as he drives out of the parking lot. A gust of wind blows across the parking lot, and I cover my face from the bitter cold. When I look up, his car is gone.

At least I watched him leave this time.

 

 

_February 27 th (The next night)_

7-3.

Seven. Fucking. Three.

I throw my gloves into my cubby and sit down. I was absent from that game and I let my team down. Berube is standing in the middle of the room, silent. I put my face into my hands and sigh.

“Don’t go soft, it’s our first game back.” I heard him walk across the room. “Clear out the fucking cobwebs and get ready for Saturday. We skate tomorrow morning.”

He leaves the room and the guys are silent. We all slowly begin taking our gear off and the media spills into the room after a bit. It slowly becomes abuzz. A few reporters swarm Mase and start asking him questions about the game. I quickly remove my gear and I watch the reporters leave Mase and go to Emery, who starts talking about how he came in to be Mason’s relief.

I hit the showers and no one says a word to me as I walk back there.  The warm water is refreshing, it hits my back and it lets me breathe for once.

Just breathe.

I avoid the media and make it home safely. I grab a beer and check the games from tonight.

Habs won in a shootout.

Saturday we face the Rangers at home.

Also cool.

I wander around my apartment, wondering if I’ll ever hear another familiar voice in these rooms. I’m alone, I’m so very alone.

We’re currently struggling to get a playoff spot, and after last season’s performance, I can’t let us miss again. I can’t go through that shame again—it’s just too much. It was too much. I’m better than this.

I stare at the picture of Danny and me from Germany.

_“What do ya—what do ya—ah—think of Germany since we got here?”_

_Without a beat, he replied._

_“Wonderful, so far.” He turned his head toward me and smiled._

_“Yeah?”_

_“Great start—good practice.” He kept playing with his phone._

_“Did you work hard?” I gave the best “dad” impression I could._

_He smiled and lifted his head._

_“Did you win or lose?” One of the guys up front said._

_He laughed an airy, satirical laugh and looked over at me. “I worked hard, but I don’t think it was very good.”_

_“But did you team win or-uh—“ I thought for a moment. “—did the old guys or the young guys—“_

_“The old guys won.” A confident grin spread across his face._

_“Naw…Danny…”_

_He tilted his head down and laughed again._

_“…don’t be lying.” I laughed with him. “So…uhm, what are you gonna do right now? Where are ya going?”_

_He looked away from his phone and looked at me._

_“Big press conference.”_

_“Oh yeah?” We pause and he’s looking at me. “…are you gonna speak German?”_

_“Yah.” He smiled only slightly. “Ich liebe dich.”_

_We both laughed._

I chug my beer and head for my bedroom.

I want to go back to him so badly, but I can’t let him hurt me again by tip toeing around our relationship—or friendship—I don’t know what we are or what we were.

My chest hurts.

I sit down on my bed, my arms shaking. My muscles tense and I can feel a headache beginning. Then I lash out.

I start beating the shit out of my pillow, until tears start brewing in my eyes.

I need to forgive myself and keep going. I can’t give up and let myself and my team become second place.

_Focus focus focus._

I comb my hair back and breathe. All I need to do is breathe. I can’t give up now. I can’t let myself fall apart because of one person that wants to take my heart for a joy ride.

Who was I trying to be?

**Author's Note:**

> "The Secret Cellar" is based off of a true wine/jazz bar in my hometown.  
> Also, my French is getting better but I would love feedback on my grammar. <3


End file.
